"It's a cargo plane, it's not built for passengers," Lieutenant John Mancey said as I climbed aboard the Hercules C-130 J, the workhorse of the Royal Australian Air Force.

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With a length of 34.4 metres and a wingspan of 40.4 metres, it's not the biggest aircraft the RAAF has - that would be the C-17 Globemaster III - but its size, combined with its ability to both land and take off from short dirt runways, makes it an invaluable vehicle.

Its primary role is to undertake strategic or tactical transport duties, including airdrops of stores or equipments, search and survivor assistance and disaster relief.

The food on the Hercules was basic but really hit the spot on the 10-hour round trip. Photo: Liam Ducey

It’s fair to say that not many people get the opportunity to travel in a Hercules.

The first thing you notice when boarding a Hercules, is the sheer noise. While most aircraft are not particularly quiet, at least you can have a conversation without resorting to a makeshift form of sign-language. Coming off the plane I felt like I’d been for a 10-hour Manowar concert.

Strip every modern luxury from your traditional aircraft and you would be close to the mark. Forget climate control, comfortable seats, entertainment or any form of plastic.

What you are left with is, essentially, a huge metal tube that flies through the air at 600 kilometres per hour.

Hercules is about function, not form. Inside it is lined with ducts, pumps, valves and wires. Everything is metal and canvas: red canvas bench seats, red canvas netting for basic back support. It is not that it's uncomfortable - there's heaps of leg room - it's just so odd to be on a flight where your 'chair' won't let you recline.

Take-off pushed me sideways and I'm not a small guy. The sheer force was breathtaking.

The second thing you notice - and you had better believe you notice it - is the cold. At times on Thursday, the temperature inside the plane was well below 14 degrees. By WA standards, that’s pretty chilly but if you were outside, you'd be subjected to temperatures of minus 52 degrees. The RAAF recommended a warm jacket, but if you ever get travel by Hercules, I recommend at least 7 layers and six pairs of socks minimum.

If the RAAF get one thing right, it's the spread. Our cardboard lunchboxes were packed. One chicken roll, one ham roll. Fruitcake. Two aircraft-standard biscuit packs. An apple. A peach cup. Cheese. Apple juice. Tropical juice. Strawberry milk and chocolate milk. That's in one pack. Then, when we ran out of food - because there's nothing better to beat boredom than eating - there were two eskies full of assorted sandwiches. It was a bit ridiculous, but that chocolate milk just the bees knees.

Having said all that, it’s the RAAF crew who made this serious mission possible. These men are a different breed. They barely noticed the cold or the noise. They took it all in their stride because they know there are a lot of families right now that deserve answers. We can only hope that their efforts to narrow the search field pay off, because not only do the families deserve it, the RAAF crew deserve it as well.